


Always The One

by PlasmaBooks



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationship, Poor Miles, Racism, don't @ me on how he probably changed his ways after blonde peter died, gwen is there but not there, i still hate him, j jonah jameson is still a bitch, slur (not explicitly stated), uncle aaron died and he cant catch a break, you'll understand just read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:45:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasmaBooks/pseuds/PlasmaBooks
Summary: Miles is all too familiar with the phrase "there will always be one". He was just hoping that the "one" wouldn't show up so soon.





	Always The One

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after the events of the movie, with a few creative liberties taken (ex. giving Uncle Aaron a funeral, making Miles not okay bc nobody recovers that quickly, etc). 
> 
> This isn't important to the story, but Miles is thirteen, and Gwen is fourteen.

“There will always be one, _mijo._ ”

 

He remembers the first time he ever heard that phrase. On a day when he came home from Kindergarten, in tears and a tattered shirt, with scrapes on his legs and twigs in his hair. On a day when his mother sat him at the kitchen sink and gently plucked the twigs out, while his father put stinging peroxide on his scrapes. He remembers the context, too. A third grader had called him the Slur-Word (the nickname for it was courtesy of his father) and pushed him down a hill. He had rolled right into a ripped chain-link fence, cut up his legs, and cried. Either nobody cared that it happened or nobody saw. He had to crawl back up the hill on his own, and when he reached the top, the attacker was gone.

 

That third grader was the “one”.

 

“There will always be that one person, Miles. You have to be bigger than them.”

 

The second time was from his father, and separated from the first by three years. Miles retained no injuries from this event, but beat the first by a long mile simply because a _grown man_ said the Slur-Word this time. He didn’t know how he hadn’t expected this before; that third grader had to have learned the word from somebody. But when he bumped into that guy in the train cart, and got cut off with that word before he could apologize, it took him by surprise nonetheless. And his father hadn’t said anything in return, and it felt wrong.

 

That grown man was also the “one”.

 

“I’m sorry, _mijo_. But you know that there will always-”

 

Eleven years old. He knew by now. He cut her off.

 

The third time was probably the worst of them all. Because it didn’t come from a school stranger or a street stranger.

 

The Slur-Word (rather, an alternative) came from a friend this time.

 

Miles had waited a day to report it to his parents, and spent the night after it happened laying awake in bed, sobbing quietly and trying to decide whether or not the girl was even in the wrong. She had seemed pretty regretful as she was telling him she had to cut him off because her father found out she was “mixing with the colors”. Maybe she _was_ sorry.

 

He had hoped with some childlike naivety that she would change her mind overnight, but if anything, she only stuck harder to her exclusion the next day. In homeroom, she refused to meet his eye. In Science, she moved her desk away from him. At lunch, she took one glance at him as he sat down at their usual table, did a full 180, and strode away.

 

It was the first time he had come home in tears since Kindergarten.

 

And the third time he had heard that phrase.

 

“There will always be one.”

 

The fourth time he hears the quote, it’s from his own mouth. He sits horizontal on the side of a building, reading the latest news on a paper almost ruined from generation loss.

 

Two years had passed since he last heard that phrase, and now, as if it were hereditary, he had picked up the habit of saying it.

 

He was kind of forced to. The front headline, courtesy of the Daily Bugle, was the perfect example of the “one”.

 

**“New Masked Menace Confirmed In Brooklyn”**

 

It’s probably less of a deal than the other times he’s been in this scenario, but it’s still enough to make him bitter.

 

He’s fresh from a funeral, still dressed up in the dark tux he was forced to wear. He’s probably 30,000 feet in the air, but he felt dead.

 

“So I’m a ‘masked menace’ now.”

 

_Right._

 

His phone dings. He pulls it from his pocket and turns it on just in time to see a notification pop up.

 

“ **New Masked Menace Confirmed In Brooklyn”**

 

He groans, and rolls his eyes. The _Bugle_ was making good use of their new website.

 

_Who writes this crap?_

 

He’s about to pocket his phone again, when suddenly a text pops up at the top of the screen.

 

     **Gwanda** 😂

 

**{Hey Miles. I’m home safe. Didn’t get stuck in somebody else’s dimension on the way back. I hope you’re alright. If you need to you can talk to me any time. I’m sorry, and the others are sorry too. We love you. Reach out sometime. -Gwen}**

 

His fingers hover over the keyboard as he thinks about a reply.

 

**Me**

 

**{I’ll keep in touch, gtg. Thnx}**

 

 **Gwanda** 😂

 

 **{Okay, be safe.** **}**

 

Miles sighs and pockets his phone again. He tilts his head up to look at the top of the building he’s sitting on, which isn’t too far above him. He slowly turns his body around and crawls up, walking across the roof to a door leading inside, to the staircase.

 

He forgot his suit, so he’ll have to go down the normal way.

 

That’s 80 stories.

 

His eyes narrow in bitterness, but an idea comes to mind that makes him take his phone out again and pull up Gwen’s contact.

 

It’s a long way down.

 

That’s fine.

 

He has a lot to rant about.

  
  
  
  
  
  



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